


everything i wanted

by bericdondarrion



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M, it's december 2016 and charly has just been hired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bericdondarrion/pseuds/bericdondarrion
Summary: Because the fact was that Rafael Nadal could snap his highly valuable fingers and Carlos Moyá would fall to his knees and do whatever the younger man wanted. He could never refuse him anything, ever, he was always a call away, and no matter what, he’d come running.
Relationships: Carlos Moya/Rafael Nadal
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	everything i wanted

Every time he went to Rafael he had good and innocent intentions, hand on heart, it’s the honest truth.

Sometimes he tried to offer the kind of advice only he could: _I get it, injuries can be devastating and you are tired and everyone expects too much but you don’t want to let them down_. Maybe just spend some quality time together, catch up, joke around, play some video games like they used to years ago, do whatever he did with the people he truly loved. That was the idea, and yet it never really went that way with Carlos. Their thing was much different, and much less innocent than he ever intended. 

Maybe it had been the natural evolution of their relationship because there was always a limit to what he could offer as a tennis player. Rafael has been a bit too far from his reach since he first beat him at sixteen, and then completely out of it after he became part of a very specific world where very few were invited and where he, just an average tennis player from Mallorca (these days “French open champion” doesn’t mean that much) could never belong to.

That was fine, he always tried his best because he wanted to be of use to Rafael somehow, ever since the beginning he had fallen prey to this otherworldly kid; first with the intense desire to help him and protect him, to look after him. _They are gonna eat him alive_ , he told Jofre once, and then he made it his mission to never let that happen.

Things started to evolve, he stopped being that reluctant kid and became this titan to the rest of the world, and to Carlos, his well known weakness, just as he realized how crazy he was about him.

Because the fact was that Rafael Nadal could snap his highly valuable fingers and Carlos Moyá would fall to his knees and do whatever the younger man wanted. He could never refuse him anything, ever, he was always a call away, and no matter what, he’d come running.

In fact, there he was, doing it yet again. 

He knew this road far too well, he had taken it too many times before with a few different turns, and it felt like it was always during the bad times. He couldn’t remember the last time he was part of his celebrations, his “good times” as scarce as they’d become as of late. Driving to their meeting places had turned out ritualistic but in the end it never felt like driving to a place but rather crashing full speed into Rafael Nadal and into the entirety of what that meant. Whether it was Es Port or the newly opened academy, it didn’t really matter.

Of course there was something else in the mix this time around, a future together, a business relationship if one preferred, something to indicate that they wouldn’t end up awkwardly avoiding each other for a few months just do repeat the whole thing over and over again; that he wouldn’t end up feeling like he had taken something that didn’t belong to him. 

In the end, it was always Rafael’s call; whatever he wanted, Carlos would give it to him, he could only pretend he had a choice in the matter.

He didn’t. A few months ago when Toni called him and in so many words suggested he should “quit the Canadian boy” because they had an offer and “Things are looking up but he needs fresh flesh” (Carlos had to chuckle at the choice of words), he tried valiantly to come up with a few excuses but he was done for at “he wants you”. He had a good thing going with Milos, he was easy, he was a good kid and a talented tennis player and they were doing, frankly, amazing. And it didn’t feel both prohibited and terrifying whenever he touched him. 

Yet there he was, driving to meet with Rafael because he had already accepted this gig several years ago when they were together for the first time, when he said his first of a million to come “I am yours” and he meant it. And then when the prospect of becoming a coach first taunted his career illusions, he would always dream with one single player, predictable as only he could be.

The last time he drove to Rafael, less than a year ago, he met with an entirely different person than the one he always knew and adored: someone so tired and sad and taking no time to break his heart. Of course, underneath all that, there was the person he loved and Carlos was determined to find him.

Naturally he ended up as he always did: trying to comfort him with words and empty advice as he squished his hand, struggling desperately to find a way to make him smile, because he missed that smile so bad. Failing and then kissing him on his forehead and whispering a “Vamos, if anyone can get back up there, it’s you” and then finally finding his lips and winding up in the same place as he always did when he came running whenever Rafael called.  
Whispering “I love you” into his ear, circling his waist with one arm to hold him in place and thrusting into him harder and harder each time, eliciting a few long, wordless moans from Rafael to try to get him to look at him in the eye because Carlos needed to find his fire. But it wasn’t there, Rafael knew it too, so he closed his eyes and rocked against Carlos instead, _don’t stop, harder;_ he said instead and even that sounded cold to Carlos’ ears.

Carlos kissed his face silently after they were done. After the advice failed and the jokes failed and the gentle touches failed, at least he could get him back from whatever dark place he was dwelling in, that was his thing, his value, and yet this time was futile, the only thing Carlos was good for, loving Rafael and offering him everything he had, was of no use. 

He found himself flying back to Madrid the next day.

Rafael Nadal took and took from Carlos and Carlos could never deny him because he wanted nothing more than to give him everything he had. 

And now? What can he possibly do this time when he failed so miserably less than a year ago. Of course, he said yes, he remembered laughing silently at all the promises Toni and Costa had made, from the salary to the benefits, to the post at the Academy - something about a technical director whatever that meant -, _after he’s done you can work at the Academy, we have all these things planned._ He chuckled before giving one last turn to the private road that led to the chalet. He had been there a few times already and he knew the way by heart. Honestly, they truly had no idea that he had already accepted this gig years ago. 

2008 in Chennai to be exact.

After their match, Rafael, expectedly, went to this hotel room to apologize for beating him at one of his favorite tournaments. They laughed, they took their shirts off because it was too damn hot. Rafael lingered there for too long and touched Carlos’ lips with his fingertips and he wasn’t asking, he was demanding. _Took you too long_ , Carlos said as he pushed him against the wall and kissed him. Rafael dropped to his knees right there, fingers hooked in his waistband and then a warm hand and a warmer mouth. _Where did you learn…?_ He asked afterwards, the younger shrugged and Carlos refused to ask a second time. 

  
  


_Let me know when you are nearby_ . And. _I’m almost there._ He shouldn’t be texting and driving.

Toni said things were looking up but he couldn’t remember the last time Rafael had won a match, he wasn’t quite sure how this coaching thing will work with a player that the entire world of tennis was expectantly waiting to see failing and giving up. _I don’t understand what my role will be between you and Roig_. He countered halfheartedly, by that point he was just pretending just to see what else he could get from Toni. 

_You’ll take the shots._ Carlos sneered. _Over you? Please_.

And then from the other line: _It won’t be me for long anyway_. 

_You aren’t looking for an extra coach, you are looking for a replacement._ Carlos said after a few moments and when the realization dawned on him: _You are giving up on him?_ , he asked, incredulous, offended almost. 

**_I will never give up on him._ ** He promised himself. Rafael was already there at the front of the entrance, waiting for him.

_Things are looking up, like I said, he’s in better spirits, and he’s feeling healthy. But I can’t help him anymore, I haven’t helped him in years or taught him anything useful since he was sixteen and I’m tired. I could never be a friend, nor even an uncle, and whatever worked before is not working anymore. He needs someone who can listen, he needs someone who doesn’t run away from… from all this he’s been carrying around for years._

“I’ve missed you”, _Rafa_ whispered against his ear as they hugged each other. _Charly_ closed his eyes, let go of the turmoil inside his head, and smiled. 

“You open the door now?”, he joked once apart,

“I’ve always opened the door and there’s no one home”.

This house had always felt like his secret place, somewhere he could hide certain stuff away and keep it safe. Charly imagined that meeting here was indeed appropriate. Outside in the main balcony it was already slightly chilly, the winds of winter not sparing Mallorca, but the sight was as beautiful as ever and he couldn’t phantom why he ever left this place. He said yes to a coke and sat next to Rafa, looking at the sea.

“So you said yes”, 

“How does that surprise you?”, he scoffed but Rafa didn’t answer. He seemed to be admiring the sight before him and Charly wondered just how many hours he spent looking at the sea. 

He did seem perhaps not as tired as the last time he saw him but a shadow lingered under his eyes nonetheless and Charly was trying to figure him out. The last two years weighed heavily, like he had aged in a year and a half, what all the previous awful years couldn't get him to age, to change. _The last time I saw him laughing was when he last practiced with you_ , Toni said, _What, months ago?_ Charly replied skeptical.

He understood now why they wanted him so badly. He thought of what he had promised himself and Jofre all those years ago and of the fact that in the end he didn’t get to avoid it, the tour, this life, it did devour him, and Charly hadn’t been there to prevent it.

“What do you want to do?”. Rafa took some time to answer. “I want to win again,'' he uttered loud enough for Charly to hear and without taking his eyes off the sea. 

Frustration. Charly decided. That was the shadow under his eyes. He didn’t know what Toni was so worried about, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw Rafa winning and right there and then, he couldn’t picture him ever losing again.

“Sounds good,'' he said, a little smile crept across his mouth and Rafa looked at him, and there he was, the person he loved so much.

“I’m glad you are here,” he reached out to hold Charly’s hand, to softly scratch his palm with his fingernails, and that was all he needed to do to complete the circle once again. Charly took no time to get up and close the distance between them. Rafa didn’t flinch as Charly caged him where he sat. The older of the two held himself with his arms by grabbing onto the chair’s sides, looming over Rafa, studying him, considering his next steps, looking into his eyes and trying to find again the fire, only this time Rafa didn’t close his eyes and **_there_ **.

He cup his face between his hands, and again, Rafa didn’t look away. Perhaps he imagined them, their silent, _I always need you_ and _whatever you want, whatever you need._

After all the gentleness, he kissed him, quick desperate, like he had wasted too many months to be there, like Rafa was something he needed to prove: that he wasn’t too late, that Charly could help him fix things somehow, make him happier, keep him healthy, make him win. And Rafael was touching his face and kissing him back, sinking in his chair and letting Charly inside his mouth, kissing and biting almost violently, their way to say _I truly really missed you_.

Rafa tugged at his hair and Charly smiled against his lips, he sighed and broke apart, sinking to the floor, kneeling before his new pupil, 

“Why didn’t you call, why didn’t you come over sooner?”, 

“I thought…,” he frowned trying to remember what was so important that day that Madrid couldn't wait, “...that you didn’t need me anymore”.

“Stupid”, Rafa muttered, “I had to laugh when they suggested you for the team, it’s all I ever wanted and why didn’t we think of it before?”

“Your uncle would have thought you wanted him replaced”, Charly suggested trying not to remember Toni’s actual plans.

Charly kissed the inside of his palm, maybe he worshipped him too much. Should he be worried? How is he ever going to pull the strict coach thing? He can’t say no, he can’t refuse him anything. God, Milos was so much easier.

“I am here now,'' he continued anyway, “I won’t leave you again, you’ll win again, I promise, we’ll make it happen, we’ll show them”, there it was, another smile and yeah, everything will be just fine.

“Want to go upstairs?,” said Rafa and Charly frowned, 

“You need to listen to me during the trainings,” Rafa nodded way too quickly for Charly to take his agreement seriously but he let it go, he did want to go upstairs after all, “No fooling around, we can leave that for later,” Rafa raised one eyebrow and with a smile on the corner of his mouth he nodded again, “Because I’m going to need you to change your entire game,” he continued, trying to sound convincing, “you aren’t that young anymore”,

Rafa laughed and Charly knew he was already defeated, like he always was against Rafael.

“I’ll show you just how young I am.''


End file.
